


Blown

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23626249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Connor’s a very patient man.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	Blown

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It doesn’t help that it’s pissing rain. Realistically, Hank wouldn’t be in a good mood anyway—he’ll never forgive Jeffrey for dragging him down to the precinct when he was _seconds_ from having his dick sucked. Not that that’s such a rare occurrence anymore, despite Reed’s snide jokes. _Still_. It’s ten at night on a Saturday—or was when he left, now going on eleven forty-five—and there’s no reason the paperwork couldn’t have waited until Monday. Better yet, he could’ve just sent Connor down, but no, his idiot colleagues had to be as anti-android as he pretends to be, and they just had to have a _human_. Had to have Hank. He sprints from his car to the front door and practically stabs the lock with his key, missing on the first go. 

With a grumble, Hank grits his teeth and slows down. He gets the door open, kicks his way inside, and sheds his waterlogged coat right on the floor, headless of how much of Sumo’s hair it’s bound to contract that way. He’ll deal with it later. He’s not even looking forward to the blowjob anymore—he just wants to pass out and forget everything. 

He half expects Connor to be sitting on the couch, waiting up for him, smiling hollowly and ready to ask how it went. That’s how it is most times Hank has to run out and leave Connor home alone. Except the only thing on the couch is Sumo’s snoring form, even though he’s not supposed to be up on the furniture. 

Hank hasn’t got the energy to deal with it. He calls, “Connor!” as he stumbles for the bedroom.

“Lieutenant,” Connor calmly answers. Hank rounds the corner, to where his bedroom door’s open, just like he left it. Connor’s right where Hank left him. On his knees. Next to the bed. Completely naked. 

Connor even has his head tilted back like he’s ready to take Hank’s cock down his throat, and even though Hank thought he was done for the night, he can’t help the automatic spike of interest. Connor’s lithe back is arched and waiting, arms out of sight, hands probably folded neatly between his soft thighs. His legs are spread open enough to have him right against the bedside. All Hank can focus on is the plump curve of his ass, only slightly dimpled from sitting on the floor. He hasn’t slumped down into it. His perfect body doesn’t sag. It’s tight and taut in all the right places, posture always exact, but it’s _just_ round enough where Hank wants it to be. Hank knows that as firm as that ass looks, the cheeks still have some give in them—they’ll bounce when he slaps them. 

There’s a dazed second that Hank just spends staring, and then Connor glances over his shoulder, peering back at Hank expectantly. It brings the embarrassment crashing down. Hank asks, “The fuck are you doing?”

“Sitting.”

“On the floor?” There’s a perfectly good bed right there. And Hank does so love coming home to find Connor in his bed—especially naked—even if he’ll never admit it.

“You specifically said not to move. I was under the impression you _liked_ it when I actually followed your orders.”

That wasn’t an order. It was a hasty mutter given while Hank was fumbling his pants back on and yelling at Jeffrey through the phone. “That’s not what I... I didn’t...”

“If you’re feeling guilty for how long you took, let me remind you that my knees don’t get sore as a human’s would, nor do I suffer from boredom when you make me wait. But now that you’re home... shall we continue?”

Sometimes when Connor talks like that, Hank just wants to slap him. Right in the face. With a dick. 

Which is pretty much what Connor’s waiting for. 

Hank grumbles and gets working on his belt, hurrying right back to where he left off.


End file.
